


Persona Archive

by Kyogre



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: F/M, Gen, Humor, Kink Meme, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-09 21:26:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14723870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyogre/pseuds/Kyogre
Summary: Fills from Persona kinkmeme on Dreamwidth.1. Hiding in plain sight (gen)2. Sex advice from doujins (Ryuji/Futaba)3. Shoulder Personas (gen)4. Why him?? (Ryuji/Akechi)





	1. Hiding in plain sight (gen)

**Prompt: Hiding in Plain Sight**

<https://personakinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/993.html?thread=192225#cmt192225>

_Where the Phantom thieves deflect suspicion on them, by loudly proclaiming to the world that they are the Phantom Thieves and acting like complete wannabes that are most definitely not the Phantom Thieves._

_Like, they have their own version of the Phan site, only it basically consists of a bunch of dorky pictures of them in obvious cosplay striking cheesy group poses. They call each other by their code-names in public, followed by confused backtracking. ("Don't call me by my code name at school!" "I'm sorry Panther, I mean Ann, I mean...") The have "secret phantom thieves meetings" in public restaurants and hangouts and anyone who listens in will basically hear a bunch of teenagers talking about how cool it would be to actually be phantom thieves and if they were, they'd total do this and it'd be awesome._

_Which of course cements in people’s minds that those losers only wish they were the Phantom Thieves._

~.~.~

**1\. A dumb idea: The Beginning**

A week after the strange calling cards had been posted on the school boards, the whispers about the “Phantom Thieves of Hearts” should have died down, writing it off as a prank or some other foolishness. And normally, they would have. If Kamoshida hadn’t mysteriously stopped coming to school the very next day.

Whether or not they believed in what the calling cards were claiming, anyone could guess that Kamoshida had been shaken by them. So the rumor mill churned steadily, even long after the initial excitement had cooled.

“Everybody’s talking about us,” Ryuji commented when they met for lunch on the roof again. “That’s kind of cool, right?”

“It’s only natural after you chose to deliver the notice in such a flashy way,” Morgana said, his tail swishing lazily. “Well, I admit it fits the aesthetics of a phantom thief. But be careful. There could be a downside to it too, you know. Drawing attention puts you in greater danger too.”

Ryuji made a stubborn face, and even Ann pouted mulishly. Ren could imagine what they were thinking -- ‘We have no regrets,’ and ‘We didn’t do anything wrong.’

No, they had no regrets about changing Kamoshida’s heart. They had even set their determination against the possibility of something going wrong and Kamoshida ending up in a coma or worse. And technically, it might have even been true that they hadn’t done anything illegal. After all, laws against going into another world and stealing someone’s desires probably didn’t exist (yet?).

That didn’t mean Ren wanted to get caught. Somehow, he didn’t think it would go over well with regard to his probation. Certainly, those in power and society as a whole would seek to punish them, even if unjustly.

Besides, as Morgana would have said, keeping your true identity secret was how a phantom thief should be.

‘But we’re the most obvious suspects,’ Ren thought, mercilessly zeroing in on the problem.

Ann, as Shiho’s close friend, would have an obvious grudge, rumors about her and Kamoshida aside. Ryuji’s animosity toward Kamoshida and their history were also well known. Ren was just considered suspicious and dangerous all around. Together with Mishima, who had also been threatened with expulsion, they would be the first ones investigated, if it came to that.

That was just the consequence of a target motivated by personal feelings. There was no avoiding it. The question was -- how to turn those inevitable suspicions aside?

“Still brooding about that?” Morgana yawned, poking his head out of Ren’s bag for a moment. There weren’t too many students around them yet, but the numbers would increase as they drew closer to Shujin, so he took the chance to enjoy his last moments of freedom before another long day of being desk-bound. “It’s good that you’re taking it seriously, but don’t worry too much. Even if they have suspicions, no one can prove it. There’s no evidence in the real world.”

Ren’s mouth twisted unhappily. “That’s only if they need evidence,” he said darkly. He was well familiar with how unnecessary proof and truth were to legal processes.

Reading his suddenly grim mood and perhaps seeing his point, Morgana fell silent. His tail swished restlessly, until he finally had to duck back into the book bag with a last unsure look at Ren.

No, leaving it to just that wasn’t good enough. They needed a plan.

~.~.~

He was still thinking about it as the last bell rang and students crowded out into the halls. Several of the conversations drifting past were about the Phantom Thieves again, Ren noted.

“This atmosphere is really getting to me. How about going out to Inokashira Park?” Ann was saying, dragging his attention back to his own group. “At least it’ll be quiet there. I think we could all use the break.”

“That’s fine with me,” Ren said. “Ryuji?”

There was no reply from the third member of their group. “Hey! Answer Lady Ann!” Morgana hissed furiously, making Ren’s bag wiggle. He jabbed his elbow into it warningly, sweeping a narrowed gaze across the corridor to deter anyone who might have decided to pay a little too much attention. Several people quickly looked away.

“Ryuji!” Ann called out. “What are you staring at?”

“Huh?” Finally noticing their attempts to gain their attention, Ryuji glanced at them -- except not quite, too busy glowering at something else to look away completely. “Have you guys seen that joker over there? Says he’s a Phantom Thief!”

He jerked his chin toward a male student on the other side of the corridor, others -- mostly girls -- clustered around him. He was gesturing grandly as he relayed something to his audience, a nearly starry look in his eyes.

“Don’t use my code name in public,” Ren said blandly.

Ann and Ryuji turned to him, puzzled, and it took a moment of blank looks for them to understand what he meant -- and that it was a joke. Ann cracked a smile, but Ryuji just groaned.

“So, the park?” Ann turned their conversation back on track.

Ryuji agreed easily enough, just as eager to get away from the school and the lingering uncertainty about Kamoshida’s state. But as they headed off, Ren lingered for a moment longer near the starry-eyed student Ryuji had been glaring at.

“--My actions have been attracting too much attention lately. It’s no wonder you figured it out…” he told his audience rather theatrically. “Keep this just between us, OK? No one can know I’m actually... a Phantom Thief. One who can steal even hearts!”

There was a smattering of giggles and amused jerring in response. It was obvious no one took him seriously.

Shaking his head, Ren abandoned his eavesdropping. That starry-eyed student had it easy. How nice to be able to joke about something that could become a dangerous allegation for the real Phantom Thieves...

“Hmph! That guy’s got some nerve!” Morgana grumbled in a tone very similar to Ryuji earlier. “Claiming credit for our hard work! And doing it like that -- like it’s an obvious joke! It’s so insulting...”

Well, of course it was an obvious joke. That was why no one thought he was serious.

That was why...

Hm.

Suddenly, Ren had an idea.

~.~.~

“Act stupid? That’s the plan?”

“Should be easy for you, numbskull.”

“Don’t use his code name in public.”

“You already used that joke! And that’s not even my code name!”

“I don’t know, this sounds kind of dangerous. What if someone does take us seriously?”

“Double down on the stupid and don’t let up. Get Numbskull to help, Kitty Woman.”

“That’s not my-- you know what, I give up.”

“I said double down.”

“...Oh, I see! Um, don’t use my code name in public!”

“Great comeback, Lady Ann! Just like that!”

“Now you’re getting it.”

~.~.~

**2\. Double down: An Excerpt**

“They were asking about Kamoshida-sensei and how we got so beat up,” the volleyball team member told Makoto, looking anywhere but at her. But at least he was talking, and that was more than she’d gotten out of the others. “Mishima, Sakamoto from the track team, and that new guy, the one with the--”

He broke off, staring at something further down the hall, his face rapidly losing color.

Makoto turned to look over her shoulder, and the cause of the volleyball player’s sudden fear became obvious. The transfer student, the one with the criminal record, was staring at them from across the corridor, his glasses catching the light ominously.

With gall Makoto almost had to admire, he raised one hand in greeting. Her witness whimpered.

“That’s all I need. Thank you for taking the time to speak with me,” Makoto said to him, perfunctory, even as her gaze remained firmly fixed on the transfer student. Recognizing the dismissal for what it was, the volleyball player fled with all speed, but that was fine. Makoto had a new target.

The transfer student watched her stalk toward him expressionlessly. He didn't look particularly delinquent-like, criminal record or not. In fact, he looked mostly like he'd just rolled out of bed and wasn't more than a quarter awake yet.

He blinked down at Makoto as she stopped in front of him, as if trying to figure out the socially appropriate response. He did not manage to do so.

What he said instead was this:

“Oh man, don't tell me you're on to us already?”

Dropping even their flimsy attempts at appearing to not be eavesdropping on this juicy drama, the students around them fell silent. Makoto’s eyes narrowed. “Is that a confession, Amamiya-kun?” she asked sharply.

“I didn't do it, it wasn't me,” Amamiya shot back immediately. “I had nothing to do with Kamoshida freaking out and confessing.” A pause. “Good riddance, fuck that guy.”

“Language,” Makoto reprimanded instinctively. That... was not the important point here. Makoto wasn't quite what the important point was, but that wasn't it.

“Can I go?” Amamiya asked.

No. Yes. Makoto wasn't ready for this confrontation yet. She needed more time to prepare her points and, most importantly, evidence. This was not at all going according to plan. “Just go,” she sighed heavily.

It was only after he had fled down the hall toward the stairs that Makoto remembered he had been the one to initiate their interaction to begin with. But surely that hadn't been intentional...

~.~.~

Trying to identify the culprits in the Phantom Thieves case was a seemingly overwhelming task that Makoto frankly didn't need on her plate. However, that didn't mean she had any intention of giving up.

It had to be someone with a personal stake, she deduced first of all. There were no similar cases, after all. And a flashy group like this wouldn't debut on a high school gym teacher unless they had a personal reason to.

So students, or faculty, or close friends or family. Given the choice to plaster the school notice boards with the “calling cards,” Makoto felt it was more likely to be either of the first two, someone who attended the school regularly. Given the nature of those cards, she quickly discarded the faculty members as culprits, since none of them fit the profile.

So students. Students who had interactions with Kamoshida, or friends of those who did. The volleyball team, the former track team. Kamoshida had no homeroom, so that narrowed it down.

Among the volleyball team, feelings were mixed. They had hated Kamoshida, of course, but they had also lost their chance at the nationals, at being seen and scouted there. They still met for their scheduled club trainings, even though they only hovered listlessly instead of actually training. So someone who had less to lose and more to gain.

Yuuki Mishima, among the three Kamoshida had threatened with expulsion, the volleyball team’s punching bag. Shido Suzui, who had attempted suicide to escape Kamoshida. Or rather, Suzui’s close friend, Takamaki, who featured in many lurid rumors involving Kamoshida.

Among the former track team, innui and despair weighed heavily. Even with Kamoshida gone and their volleyball rivals disgraced, they had no renewed sense of purpose or hope. They had no coach, no leadership without the now graduated third years of the time. There was some vindication at seeing Kamoshida brought down, but no real relief. They lacked the spirit to strike out at him.

Except Ryuji Sakamoto. Noted repeatedly for his poor response to authority and uncooperativeness, as well as potential violent tendencies. The second among those threatened with expulsion.

And that brought her to the third. Ren Amamiya, transfer student with a criminal record, although no one seemed clear on what he had actually done. Why had he butted heads with Kamoshida so strongly as to warrant expulsion? Why had he and Sakamoto been asking the volleyball team about Kamoshida’s treatment of them?

He was spending a great deal of time with Sakamoto and Takamaki recently. He, Sakamoto and Mishima had been together when Kamoshida made his threat against them.

These four were suspicious. Makoto was certain of her conclusion.

She was. It made perfect sense.

...It made sense until you actually saw them in person.

Mishima started crying when Makoto tried to question him. Without anything that could even slightly qualify as “pressing for answers,” he spilled everything -- how grateful he was to the Phantom Thieves, how enamored with them, how he'd created the Phansite in hopes of prompting them to act again.

“I just, I just want others to be saved too!” he wailed. “I'm so sorry, Miss President! Please don't kick me out!”

Posting things on the internet was not illegal. Or against school rules. So while she personally disapproved, Makoto was able to assure him that he had done nothing wrong -- and usher him quickly out of the student council room. Her ears were left ringing in the silence.

(She did not see Mishima go dry-eyed immediately after the door shut behind him and give a thumbs up to the trio hiding around the corner.)

So in theory, her investigation was going well. She's narrowed it down to three suspects, who conveniently grouped themselves together as a unit.

In theory.

In practice...

She tried to imagine giving her findings to the principal. Given the man’s character, he'd accept them with no proof, congratulate her. And call the three of them in for his own questioning.

She tried to imagine that.

Sakamoto, who shamelessly used “I'll take your heart” or variations as a threat, except always in a tone and with hand gestures that suggested he meant it in the very literal, physical sense. He also called the calling cards “phone cards,” “cooling cards,” “college cards,” etc. and tried to stencil the Phantom Thief logo on his bag, but drew it backwards and upside down.

Takamaki, who discussed all Phantom Thief developments at a pitch not suited for indoors, and treated it all as a very entertaining drama happening to someone else. “Wow, she's on to us already? Ooooh~~ it’s really heating up already!” was an exchange the entire second floor heard the very day Makoto first ran into Amamiya. You could practically hear the hearts and music notes, and she never stopped grinning excitedly.

And of course, Amamiya himself. Who looked perpetually about to doze off right on his feet, and also always greeted Makoto with some variation of “I didn't do it” or “it's not my fault.” This was apparently also his go-to response in most situations, included to classmates dropping things clear across the room and bad weather. (Naturally, the student body now blamed him for everything, including the squeaky hinge on the third floor girls restroom and the anatomy model that had gone missing last year.)

Makoto tried to imagine the three of them standing in the principal’s office, belligerent, excited and utterly indifferent under his disapproving gaze.

...He wouldn't get three sentences in before the whole thing derailed into madness and stupidity. Just like Makoto’s every attempt to question them.

(“The delinquent, the transfer student, and the rumor girl... You’re certainly an odd group.” “Wow, we’re famous~!” “I didn’t do it, you can't prove anything.” “What's a dinquit? Are you callin’ me stupid?!” “...The roof is off limits since that incident.” “Whatever it was, I didn't do it.” “Fuck rules!” “....oh. That incident...”)

(That one was the worst because Takamaki’s vapid smile had finally cracked -- and she started crying instead. Makoto remembered too late that it was because of Suzui’s... accident that the roof had been made restricted access. Even if Suzui was on the mend, it must have been a painful subject. She had departed with all haste, feeling Sakamoto’s glower on her back.)

In any case.

Makoto needed evidence, so she could just turn them over to the police and wash her hands of the whole matter.

(She tried to imagine those three across an interrogation room table from her sister.)

...Right. Evidence.

~.~.~

And eventually, she had it -- the proof she needed.

It was a struggle to keep the smug smirk off her face as Ren Amamiya settled into the chair across from her. “Have a listen,” Makoto said, laying her cell phone between them and tapping the play button on the recording she’d made.

Sakamoto’s voice came from the speakers, rough as always but clear over the background noise of chatter and footsteps. “If someone else could help ‘em, we wouldn’t be doin’ stuff as the Phantom Thieves to start with!”

Takamaki next. “So you think it’s true...? We’ll be okay if we keep doing this... right?”

That was the end, and Makoto sat back, awaiting a reaction.

She was deeply disappointed -- as always, these idiots were nothing by disappointment and inconvenience all around. Amamiya’s bag meowed violently, but he himself only blinked down at her phone rather distractedly, as if he hadn’t really registered what he’d heard.

“Well? Are you going to deny it?” Makoto pressed impatiently.

“Oops,” Amamiya muttered, finally looking at her again.

‘Oops?’ Really? That was all she got for over a month of having to follow these idiots around while they tried on stupid costumes and took embarrassing Featherman pose selfies? While they bought out Phantom Thief merchandize and proudly talked about how popular they were in at the diner or the ramen shop? While they blatantly stalked bullies who suddenly had a crisis of conscience not a week later?!

(Although, that last one might have just been a nervous breakdown from being followed around by the infamous school delinquent and equally infamous school criminal. Both bullies had looked ready to run screaming if they saw Amamiya and Sakamoto looming behind them one more time.)

The silence was broken by the sound of a phone ringing. Not Makoto’s, which had gone dark on the table between them.

Completely calmly, Amamiya pulled out his phone and answered. Before he could get a word in, Sakamoto’s loud voice echoed through the empty student council room.

“Hey, where you at? Takin’ a leak? Let’s meet up at the usual spot for our Phantom Thieves meetin’!” he declared cheerfully.

Makoto smirked again. “There we are,” she said. “More proof. Are you ready to confess?”

Hanging up without answering, Amamiya stared back stoically. “I won’t confess even if you torture me,” he declared. “Even eighteen hour interrogation can’t make me confess. It wasn’t my fault. I’m completely innocent.”

Eighteen hours? No, that wasn’t important.

“Let’s, let’s just go,” Makoto sighed. Her sense of triumph was ebbing away quickly, leaving only a budding headache.

~.~.~

“Hey team,” Amamiya greeted his trio of ne’er-do-wells casually. “Hairband Girl caught us out. She’s got a recording of Numbskull and Kitty Woman talking about Our Grand and Glorious Mission.”

Takamaki gasped excitedly. “Don’t use my code name in public!” she berated in an unsuitably cheerful voice. Rocking from foot to foot, she went on, “Oh, we got found out! What’re we gonna do?”

“Oh no,” Kitagawa Yusuke agreed, looking not much more concerned.

There was just one thing. “My name is Makoto Niijima. I’m the student body president,” Makoto corrected Amamiya. Hairband Girl? Did he seriously not know her name after all this time.

He stared at her blankly. “You’re not a high school detective?”

High school... detective... Realizing she was grinding her teeth at the reminder of a certain individual, Makoto forced herself to unclench her jaw and smile. “I am not,” she said. “But that doesn’t matter because I have evidence proving your identity as the Phantom Thieves. What do you think will happen if I pass this recording to the police?”

“I’ll get arrested again,” Amamiya said immediately. “And interrogated. And falsely convicted when the witness lies. And sent to juvie. And no other school will ever accept me, so I’ll be cast out from society forever.”

Makoto paused, opening her mouth as if about to say something, only to come up short. What angle to even approach that from.

The cat in Amamiya’s bag poked out its head and meowed comfortingly.

“I... I don’t think this is evidence enough to have anyone arrested...?” Makoto admitted helplessly. “You’ll just be put under surveillance and unable to continue your activities. Also, I’m the only witness, and I’m not going to lie!”

“You say that now, but when a big shot politician threatens your future, you’ll say whatever he wants you to say,” Amamiya muttered. “Even if he was feeling you up five minutes ago.”

...She was starting to get an idea of what Amamiya’s criminal record was all about.

“It’s cool, dude,” Sakamoto assured him. “I’ll just break her phone.”

“I, I made a copy! Several copies! Including on my sister’s laptop!” Makoto protested quickly. She had not made any copies, and made a mental note to do that next time she was blackmailing someone.

“What a dangerous foe,” Kitagawa commented to Takamaki. “Truly, a worthy rival for the Phantom Thieves!”

“Yeah, even if she isn’t a high school detective,” Takamaki agreed -- backhandedly.

“In any case, I do not intend to turn you over to the police!” Makoto went on, trying to regain control of the situation. “If you cooperate, that is. What I want is for you to prove your justice to me -- and change a certain individual’s heart.”

“Plot twist~” Takamaki sing-songed under her breath.

“OK,” Amamiya said. His cat meowed unhappily, visibly digging its claws into his shoulder, where it had migrated over the course of the conversation.

“Only if he’s a dick,” Sakamoto tacked on.

“I assure you, this is a heinous criminal,” Makoto said.

“Cool,” Sakamoto said. And, crouching down right there at the railing of a public walkway, pulled out his phone and began to type something. “So let’s get on with the heart changing. What’s this dude’s name?”

“J-just like that?” Makoto wondered.

“Sure! We’ll put it on the site for you!” Takamaki agreed.

They weren’t taking her seriously at all. “I don’t need you to put it on the site! I need you to change his heart!” Makoto snapped, just short of stamping her foot in frustration.

All of them had turned to stare at her in surprise, along with several of the passersby. But no one stopped or stared for long, and soon her angry outburst had faded away as if it never happened. This was, after all, how they had stayed hidden all this time -- by being too obvious for anyone to take seriously. “Guys,” Takamaki said slowly, “I think she’s seriously. Like, she seriously thinks we’re the real Phantom Thieves.”

“Oh, come on. Are you shitting me?” Sakamoto groaned.

“Don’t try to play it off! It has to be you!” Makoto protested. “You three had the strongest reasons to target Kamoshida! And now Madarame’s student is in your group too! It’s obvious!”

Everyone was looking at her, their expressions surprised or puzzled. Makoto could hardly tell anymore, her head spinning. She couldn’t be wrong. She had them! She couldn’t have made a mistake.... could she?

“It’s true that the Phantom Thieves saved all of us, and that’s why we have become a close-knit group,” Kitagawa spoke up finally. His tone was horribly gentle. “But I met Ann before that, while I was still Madarame’s student. I asked her to model for me. And then, afterwards, she offered me her condolences. We began to talk about the Phantom Thieves, and...”

“And we kind of... fangirled, er, fanboyed together,” Ann said, smiling sheepishly. “I thought it would be nice if he could hang out with us. Yusuke... well, he seemed lonely.”

“I was,” Kitagawa agreed placidly.

Makoto looked between them, feeling her brow scrunch up painfully. They had to be lying. Didn’t Takamaki look just a little too earnest, weren’t the others watching too closely? She just couldn’t tell anyone.

“But,” she started helplessly, “but the three of you, at Shujin...”

“No one would talk to me except Ryuji,” Amamiya said bluntly.

Sakamoto grimaced a little. “And I ended up draggin’ him into pokin’ around Kamoshida. That’s how we ran into Ann. Me and her know each other from middle school too.”

“Nobody except Ryuji would talk to me either, after Shiho...” Takamaki’s expression crumbled, and she looked away biting her lip. Sighing, Sakamoto... pulled out a pack of tissues and handed one to her, and another to Amamiya, for some reason. She dabbed at her eyes, while Amamiya folded his neatly, and the two of them loudly blew their noses in sync.

“But, but I...” Makoto’s shoulders slumped as the fight and conviction drained out of her. “But it has to be you. It’s the only way to help the students. There’s nothing else I can do!”

She didn’t even try to read the look their exchanged. The only thing she was aware of was her own trembling -- and the way it stilled when Amamiya stepped forward and laid a hand on her shoulder.

“Tell us about it,” he said. “Even us deputy Phantom Thieves have our ways.”

~.~.~

**3\. Fake it till you make it: Best(?) End**

“Look me in the eye and tell me that... that FOOL BOY in there is a phantom thief! Is that badge for show?!”

Sae’s strident voice filtered straight through the thick walls of the interrogation room, making Ren’s fuzzy, drug-addled mind echo painfully. Carefully bending over, he laid his cheek against the cool metal of the table.

“Of course he has Phantom Thief ties! He’s an ardent fan! So is three quarters of his school, and most of Tokyo!”

A small, smug smile tugged at his lips.

“Oh, you caught him the act? And WHERE exactly was that? In the act of WHAT?!”

Deep down, Sae was just as straightforward and soft-hearted as her sister. Very easy to play. Ren almost felt bad. Almost.

“I don’t CARE if he was wearing some dumb costume! That’s what kids do!”

A pause.

“And YOU! Akechi, I see you over there! Explain yourself! Why have you been harassing my sister and her friends?”

Now this was true justice.

~.~.~


	2. Advice from doujins (Ryuji/Futaba)

<https://personakinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/993.html?thread=765409#cmt765409>

_Ryuji's pretty excited to have sex with his girlfriend Futaba, only to find that she keeps trying to be appealing to him by mimicking stock doujin characters (Little sister, Maid, Catgirl, etc.), when he just wants to have sex with her as her._

_Basically just Futaba roleplay shenanigans and Ryuji should really get paid for all the shit he puts up with. I love that fluffy smut._

~.~.~

It started with cat ears.

Given all of Futaba’s other quirks, Ryuji hadn’t thought much of it when she settled on the couch next to him with a black cat-ear headband on her head. It wasn’t that creepy mask or even a towel like at the beach, at least. Moving with a careful casualness, he dropped an arm around her shoulders and, when she didn’t skitter off, settled in to cuddle with his girlfriend.

Futaba fidgetted and wiggled closer. Absently, Ryuji let his hand drift lower along her side, his thumb rubbing half-circles over her hip. It was only when he felt her weight siddle half into his lap that he realized that the atmosphere between them had changed from a casual hangout into something a little more... intimate.

Arms coming up around his neck, Futaba pressed flush against him, and Ryuji felt his ears burn even as he let his hand cautiously slide between her tank top and waistband to lightly caress bare skin.

Both of them leaned closer, breaths mingling before their lips finally touched. It could barely be called a kiss but it was... very nice. Very, very nice.

Pulling back a little, Ryuji asked breathlessly, “This okay?”

“Yeah, super,” Futaba murmured, sounding dazed. She blinked rapidly and seemed to come back to her senses a little — and added, as if catching herself, “...nya.”

Then, she lifted her hand and made a beckoning paw gesture, like a maneki neko statue.

Ryuji stared, nonplussed.

“Uh, what?” he asked dumbly.

“What, what? ...Nya,” Futaba shot back. Except that she clearly knew exactly what, given the mullish look that was starting to creep over her face. She was still making the cat paw gesture too.

His gaze drifting up to cat ear headband again, Ryuji couldn’t stop himself from making a face. “Do we... have to do that?” he asked. “Cause it makes me think of Monamona, and that’s like the complete opposite of a turn on.”

Their brave leader might get the bulk of Morgana’s scolding and nagging, but Ryuji had definitely gotten his share of catmom’s yowling admonishments. And so had Futaba, judging by her grimace. Even just thinking of Morgana in a situation like this... both of them reflexively glanced around the room, almost afraid to find a certain cat staring at them judgingly.

In other words, a complete turn off indeed.

Groaning, Futaba plopped onto the couch next to Ryuji. The moment was completely ruined. “I miscalculated,” she muttered unhappily. “Not that one, huh?”

“...You wanna rewind and keep watching?” Ryuji suggested, reaching for the remote. He didn’t even want to know, he decided. He’d just chalk it up to the perils of dating the sort of girl who used chat-speak in real life.

“Yeah,” Futaba sighed and sulkily dropped her head on his shoulder.

The booming sounds of the action movie they’d picked filled the room as Ryuji skipped back to the last scene he remembered and turned up the volume. Well, that didn’t work the way he’d hoped. But with Futaba’s weight warm against his side, he didn’t mind too much. It wasn’t like they were in a rush.

~.~.~

The next incident went distinctly worse.

They had gotten all the way to an increasingly heated makeout, one open-mouthed kiss flowing into another. It was quickly approaching the furthest Ryuji had ever gotten with a girl before, and the shrinking rational part of his mind — the one that always reminded him that Futaba had been a shut in who couldn’t handle human interaction just a few months back — nudged at him to slow down before they got too carried away altogether.

But it was hard, with Futaba’s deft fingers running through his hair with a frantic pressure that felt so, so good, her tongue pressing against his, so warm, the soft sounds she was making — and he was too, really, another groan rumbling in the back of his throat.

They pulled back to breathe, and some shred of sense finally reasserted itself, just a little.

“Good?” Ryuji asked, between panting breaths, brushing back Futaba’s tangled bangs and seeking her eyes.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good,” she said. She blinked, and if Ryuji hadn’t been so muddled with the sin of lust, he would have had a very bad feeling. “You’re sooo good,” Futaba went on in a cutesy voice that didn’t suit her at all, “onii-chan.”

A beat.

“Gyaaaaah!” With a startled yelp, Ryuji all but bodily flung his girlfriend off him.

Futaba squawked in protest as she landed on the opposite side of the couch, bouncing a little on the end cushion. “Wh-what was that for?! You, you gorilla!” she protested.

“What about you? What the hell was that?!” Ryuji shot back. “ ‘Oniichan?’ What is that, practice for Ren? Come on, this isn’t the time!”

...Except. What if... this was exactly the time she wanted to think about Ren? No way, right? Right??

As Ryuji’s thoughts spiralled into something crazy and, logically speaking, completely ridiculous, Futaba stared at him blankly. Just before he could break out in full panic, she demanded, “What are you talking about? What would I be practicing for him? Ren’s even more of a turnoff than Morgana.”

A beat.

“...Oh,” Ryuji said stupidly.

Futaba sighed. “Another fail,” she muttered. “Even though it sold the most BDs...”

~.~.~

The last one, she’d really tried her best.

It had been a surprise to Ryuji to receive the text, all but ordering him to Futaba’s room. He couldn’t deny the flush that crawled up his neck or the stupid grin on his face as he stared at the words. His girlfriend’s room — that was somehow very exciting, even if they ended up not doing anything except playing video games or rereading her impressive manga collection.

...Hopefully, she’d cleaned it since the whole thing with her Palace.

Boss wasn’t home, as Futaba had also mentioned. Letting himself in, Ryuji made his way upstairs.

“Hey, it’s me,” he called out, knocking on Futaba’s door.

There was short, muffled scuffle on the other side, before Futaba called out, “C-come in!” She sounded nervous, the same way Ryuji felt. This... definitely didn’t feel like just a hangout.

He swallowed thickly and pushed open the door.

And stared.

Futaba was standing in the middle of the room — clean, incidentally, but that was the last thing on Ryuji’s mind. Because Futaba was wearing a dress (weird), with lots of ruffles and white lace (weirder), which also happened to be unmistakably a maid uniform (whoa).

“W... woah...” Ryuji breathed without conscious input from his completely overheated brain. “Damn.”

His eyes slid down her figure and up again, slower. Under his fervert attention, Futaba straightened her stance, gaining confidence. “Finally, a hit!” she grinned. “My special research paid off!”

Ryuji hummed in distracted acknowledgement. Taking a step closer, he placed his hands on her waist, and her arms went up around his neck in return. As he leaned down, Futaba stood on her toes to meet him in a quick, simple kiss.

“So what’ll it be... Master?” she purred, although her imagine was completely ruined by the wide grin on her face.

That grin dropped when Ryuji wrinkled his nose at the last word. It wasn’t enough to make him pull away, but that had definitely broken through his lust-filled haze.

“Oh, come on!” Futaba protested, correctly reading his expression. “Getting called Master is a key part of the maid fetish! Which I know you have! Don’t deny it, I know all about your sketchy maid service escapades! Ren told me!”

“Renren told you?!” Ryuji spluttered. “That’s not cool!”

“What was I supposed to do? You don’t like catgirls or little sister moe or anything!” Futaba huffed. “I had to use my secret weapon to find out what you’re into! And it’s maids! So why are you being all weird now?”

Catgirls. Little sister moe. Maids. They were all the most cliche of fetishes. Realization hitting him, Ryuji groaned. “That’s not... You don’t have to, you know?” he said, squeezing lightly at Futaba’s waist. “We can save figuring out that stuff for later. Nothing wrong with starting out vanilla.”

Futaba made a face at the last word, like it was something below her. “Those doujins never sell!” she complained.

“We ain’t in a doujin,” he said dryly — thank heavens for that, given what he’d seen of them. “I don’t need this weird kinky stuff. Just you is what I want.”

The cheesy line slipped out easily, and Ryuji felt his ears burn. But it was too late to back out anyway, and instead he leaned in to press another kiss to her pouting mouth. With a last, sulky huff, Futaba kissed him back.

“But you liked... the maid uniform,” she muttered stubbornly when they paused for air. “I saw.”

Ryuji shrugged, more interested at the moment in loosening the uniform in question. He wasn’t going to deny it. But that was something for later.

~.~.~ 


	3. Shoulder Personas

<https://personakinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/993.html?thread=757985#cmt757985>

_so, it the thieves discover that you can summon your personas outside the metaverse... except no one but other persona users can see them and they're about 4 inches tall (about 10 centimeters). They can still use some powers and interact with the physical world, but only on an extremely small scale. Like, Carmen can only make a fire the same size as a lighter and Arsene is barely strong enough to lift a pen. Of course, this means that Akira has an army of baby personas he can unleash on the unsuspecting population_

_Bonus if they all hang out with Morgana in the Mona Bag._   
_Double bonus is if the reason they find out Akechi has been to the Metaverse is if they see little Robin Hood and Loki arguing via Kronk's angel and devil from emperor's new groove_

**Notes:** Fill-a-thon continues! Sorry, I’m mostly hitting the double bonus. What can I say, I have narrow interests.

~.~.~

Trying to slip into Leblanc silently, Akira winced as his bag gave a rather obvious twitch, along with a furious hiss. Morgana’s exact complaints were too muffled to make out, but he could guess they had to do with the not-cat’s newest “roommate.”

Agathion, Akira’s first fusion, had been a great help in the battle with Kamoshida, but Morgana hadn’t exactly hit it off with the new Persona. Understandable, since the first thing Agathion did when it materialized in the real world in its tiny, 10 centimeter form was hit Morgana in the nose with an equally tiny Zio.

The spell had little more force than a static shock, but Morgana knew how to carry a grudge. So when Akira shoved Agathion’s tiny pot into his bag next to his not-cat, it had been a recipe for a day of suspicious noises and movements that had nearly given him away multiple times. (He’d drawn the line on Morgana summoning Zorro to add to the chaos.) The only upside was that normal humans couldn’t understand Morgana’s cursing or see Agathion at all.

Fortunately, Sojiro only glanced at his temporary ward with a sense of general disinterest and returned to whatever he was doing behind the bar. The cafe itself was almost entirely empty, save for one customer in the far booth.

Akira sighed in relief. With his probation still new, the last thing he wanted to do was draw Sojiro’s ire or even just annoyance.

His bag wiggled again, something that felt like a cat leg jabbing him in the side. “You’re the fat one, you squishy-faced frog!” Morgana yowled. Agathion didn’t even talk, but that didn’t stop them from carrying on a near constant argument.

As subtly as he could, Akira jabbed the bag with his elbow. When Sojiro glanced his way, eyes narrowing, he pretended to be suddenly very interested in the television.

On screen was some kind of talk show again, being one of the more common choices for background noise at Leblanc. The overly colorful set with its oversized cushions was vaguely familiar, as was the pretty boy guest sitting on one of them.

Where had Akira seen him before...? Puzzling over the question, he missed what the hosts had asked, the camera switching back to their guest for a close up.

Akira blinked and stared. Because there seemed to be two small dolls on familiar pretty boy’s shoulders, balanced perfectly even as he laughed in a mild, polite way.

What a weird gimmick. Shows these days were getting more and more strange, Akira thought.

Goro Akechi — according to the name along the bottom of the screen, the “Detective Prince” — brought a hand to his chin and tilted his head thoughtfully. “That is a difficult question indeed,” he said. “Understanding the motives of a criminal is a vital but uncertain part of a detective’s work. In that case of that man...”

“He was a piece of shit who thought people are just toys!” the striped doll on Akechi’s left shoulder squeaked in an unexpectedly deep voice.

Akira blinked. Huh.

He wouldn’t have expected that kind of language from such a pleasant-looking boy. That gap in appearance and behavior had to be what they called ‘gap moe.’ Feeling a little more knowledgeable, Akira nodded to himself in understanding.

The white doll on Akechi’s right shoulder sighed but didn’t comment.

Goro Akechi himself continued to smile as if he hadn’t heard anything at all. “...the severity of his crimes is such that his reasons cannot mitigate them,” he concluded. “Some things cannot be forgiven, no matter the circumstances.”

His expression was completely affable despite his rather harsh words, but the white doll reached out to pet his hair comfortingly.

Akira raised a hand up to his chin thoughtfully. Were they supposed to have a kind of angel-devil dynamic? TV shows nowadays were more complicated than he’d realized. The camera switched back to the host, who made some bland closing remark. It seemed the segment was ending, but Akira continued to watch with interest and some small amount of anticipation to see what the next gimmick would be.

As if sensing his intentions, his bag wiggled unhappily. “Hurry up and get upstairs already!” Morgana complained. “I want out — and away from this stupid mug!”

Akira didn’t hear any response Agathion might have made, but there was another jolt from within and the incensed hissing began to rise in volume, loud enough that it would soon draw attention. Grabbing the bag’s straps before it could slide right off his shoulder, Akira sighed and obeyed the will of his feline overseer. Monamona was the true prison warden of his heart.

(It took literally months — and Makoto — for any of them to realize that the shoulder angel and devil weren’t a gimmick but his actual Personas. No one was quite whether that said more about their group’s overall intelligence level, the state of the modern entertainment industry, or their views of Akechi’s personality.)

~.~.~


	4. Why him?? (Ryuji/Akechi)

<https://personakinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/993.html?thread=393441#cmt393441>

_Ryuji has never been attracted to a man before — not even Akira — but when he sees Akechi flouncing around in his Phantom Thief costume, it becomes very obvious that he isn't completely straight._

_You can play it seriously, or there can be some comedy to it (especially if Ryuji finds himself consulting his friends on the matter), so long as this really is the first time Ryuji's lusted after a dude._

**Notes:** This didn’t really go the way I wanted it to, sorry.

~.~.~

Generally, Ryuji considered himself a flexible person — in terms of his sexuality, that is. He’d never been attracted to a man, but he didn’t dismiss the possibility either. If it did happen, he didn’t want to miss his chance by spending too much time freaking out, right?

Besides, there were some pretty amazing guys out there. The track stars he admired as a kid, the sempai he’d seen go to the nationals, and even Akira. Ryuji wasn’t interested in banging any of them, but he could tell they were great people, and he would have understood his libido for going there.

(Not to mention all the non-man, non-woman things that he’d discovered to exist since the entire wild Phantom Thief ride had started. Frankly, dudes were pretty passe compared to, say, a talking cat or a floating magatama with a face or a giant dick on a chariot.)

Ryuji did not understand what his libido actually decided to do.

Because seriously, that? That?!

It was such a poor choice on every single level. That personality, first of all. Then, that occupation which was incidentally directly opposite to Ryuji’s. But also, that effing shadiness, which screamed nothing good or trustworthy. Not to mention the blackmail. Even the hair, no matter how fluffy and soft-looking, was just dumb.

It was, in fact, such a poor decision that Ryuji forgave himself for being completely in denial about it for months on end. Because, in retrospect, his overly belligerent knee-jerk reaction toward all things Goro Akechi was just that — a crush he desperately hadn’t wanted to acknowledge.

But there it was, and there he was, staring at “Crow’s” ass all through their first day at the Casino.

He’d already gotten nailed by Shadows a few times, and Panther and the others were shooting him worried-amused looks. It was terrible. That “thief” outfit was stupid! Crow’s overwrought theatrical gesticulations were ridiculous! And yet, Ryuji just couldn’t stop staring.

He was... he was totally imagining tugging that white jacket open and pulling it off Akechi, gripping his legs in those tailored pants and getting a good handful of—

Not going there. Definitely not going there. This was terrible. Why this? It was Akechi! He wasn’t even that good looking, and nothing about his personality was even slightly redeeming!

Except that apparently Ryuji’s libido thought he was definitely that good looking, enough to pull itself away from its usual (female) fare.

Ryuji no longer understood himself.

~.~.~

He had exactly two options. One, ask Ann for advice. Two, ask Akira for advice.

The rest of their group was a complete write off, and Ryuji... had no other friends. Whatever, it was still more friends than he’d had at the start of the year. (Now, if only his friends were a little more useful in the dating department...)

There was something uniquely humiliating about asking Akira — but on the other hand, at least he wouldn’t blab to their entire friend circle before the day was out. So Ryuji knew which one he’d try first.

“So, uh,” he began eloquently, having managed to corner his friend alone back in the real world. “Crow, huh?”

Akira turned to look at him, and his glasses did that stupid gleaming thing that made him look like a creepy villain and also made Ryuji feel deeply judged. There was also that pause, like he was mentally flipping through his options for how to steer the conversation. “Are you going to be okay working with him?” Akira asked finally, blinking and returning back to not creepy.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Ryuji said. In reality, he didn’t remember any of Crow’s actual fighting ability. Just the backflips and twirling.

“His skills fit well with the team,” Akira added.

“Yeah, I guess.” Ryuji did not remember what those skills were. Something shiny, right?

“His other assets too,” Akira continue in the same tone. “Like his ass.” And of course, he snickered at his own poor excuse of a pun.

Ryuji choked on his spit. He should have asked Ann, he thought distantly.

“Was it that obvious?” he muttered, burying his face in his hands. God, did the entire team know already anyway?

“Not really,” Akira said, the amusement clear in his tone. “But I was watching you because I thought there might be a problem having him on the team. You were really against him before.”

There was indeed a problem. Just not for the team. “I’m still against him,” Ryuji said sullenly. “He’s an annoying, arrogant dick, and his face pisses me off. Plus, he’s blackmailing us, and I don’t trust him at all.”

He’d half expected Akira to say something to the extent of ‘but now you realized you want to make out with him’ — and it was even true, which was terrible — but their leader remained silent for an oddly long moment. When Ryuji glanced at him, the unreadable expression on Akira’s face made him tense instinctively, the lax mood between them dropping away.

Noticing his reaction, Akira tried to school his face into something more open, but they both knew it was too late, now that the issue had been raised.

“Well,” Akira said quietly, “you’re not wrong about that.”

Because Akira didn’t trust Akechi either, even if they seemed to have some weird connection or understanding or rivalry that no one else understood. It wasn’t the blackmail that was the problem — Makoto, Futaba and even Yusuke to some extent had done their share of that. It wasn’t even that he disagreed with changing hearts. There was something else to it, some other doubt that Akira was holding close to his chest, which made them go so far as to bug Akechi’s phone.

They still hadn’t gotten a conclusion on that yet.

“If it was anyone else, I’d tell you to go for it,” Akira admitted, his mouth twisting unhappily. “I still want to say that, but... I don’t want you to get hurt.”

If Akechi betrayed them, for real.

It was obvious that this wasn’t what Akira wanted. If it had been him, he would have taken the chance without a second thought, wanting to believe in Akechi more than he feared that possibility of betrayal — helly, that’s what he was doing, in the non-romantic sense. But for the sake of his friend, he forced himself to think practically.

Ryuji sighed. “So what you’re saying is, I have lousy taste in men,” he said with exaggerated flatness.

The effect was immediate. Akira couldn’t hide his amused snort, or the grin that split his face. “I wouldn’t go that far,” he demured, still grinning. “He does have his good points. Like his...”

“If you say ass—”

“Face,” Akira finished. “He’s very pretty.”

“His face is stupid,” Ryuji shot back petulantly.

“And his hair. It looks very soft.”

It did. “It’s dumb too,” Ryuji said anyway.

“Also his ass,” Akira concluded, pushing up his glasses like a nerd or a cheap villain. “Supposedly.”

“I’m gonna punch you, I swear,” Ryuji muttered.

“And... he looks very lonely sometimes,” Akira said, quietly. “That’s why...” That was why he wanted to give Akechi a chance, despite all the odds. In different ways, it was something all of them could relate to.

Ryuji sighed again, and slumped over in exhaustion. “Some help you are...” he complained.

“Sorry,” Akira said easily, although it was clear from his tone that he wasn’t really sorry at all.

He should have asked Ann, dammit.

~.~.~

They were back in the Palace, and Ryuji had come to no conclusion about how to deal with the single stupidest decision of his life AKA his newfound shitty taste in men. It didn’t help that he couldn’t stop getting distracted every time Crow took his turn on the front lines, or gestured particularly flamboyantly, or took a knee to rest.

But as they took a quick break, he could finally understand what Akira had meant. Crow, drifting away to from the group, looked out across the casino, and the sight of his narrow back all alone made something pang in Ryuji’s chest.

He wasn’t like Akira. He couldn’t selflessly disregard his own wellbeing and the threat of a painful betrayal just because someone needed his help. But Ryuji was still a Phantom Thief, and there was one thing they all shared — the refusal to bow to what was judged a predetermined conclusion. The more society and logic told them to give up, the harder they fought. The will of rebellion to overturn even fate... or perhaps just outright bullheadedness.

So the more Ryuji thought, ‘I shouldn’t do this,’ because that was the commonsense, reasonable thing, the more he felt like doing it.

That was just how thieves were, right? Obstacles were just an invitation.

(And he did know it, that loneliness...)

Crow stumbled a little when Ryuji unexpectedly clapped him across the back. His customary fixed smile was decidedly strained as Ryuji proceeded to drape an arm over his shoulders, dragging him down into the same slouch Ryuji usually sported.

Akechi was... unexpectedly warm and solid, which should have been obvious, he was human, after all, but still somehow took Ryuji by surprise. A good surprise. Maybe. It felt nice, at least.

Swallowing against the sudden dryness in his mouth, he cleared his throat. “Quit sulking around by yourself,” he said gruffly. “You know how sketchy you look?”

“My... apologies,” Akechi offered, his tone rising at the end as if in question.

“Yeah, well. You’re part of the team now, so come on,” Skull grumbled, pulling him bodily toward the others.

Hopefully, he wouldn’t notice the way Ryuji’s grip tightened slightly — or realize how much his thoughts were straying toward the flex of surprisingly cut muscles beneath that gaudy uniform. Akechi’s shoulders felt strong beneath Ryuji’s arm, and it took an effort not to imagine what they’d look like without the white and red jacket.

The others... were watching them, with varying degrees of interest — from none (Yusuke) to definitely imagining blackmail possibilities (Futaba). Akira offered him a supporting smile, which was nice...

Ann was grinning. She sidled up to him after Ryuji quickly pulled away from Crow and pushed him toward the rest of the group, and leaned in to almost whisper. “So...” she drew out.

Ryuji groaned.

~.~.~


End file.
